Mexican Beauty
she came and sat
next to me and said,
"Hi Chris, remember me?"
we'd never met so I said
"sure", and added,
"what was your name again?"
"Zager, but I'm half
Mexican", was the closest thing
I can remember to what she said
her father was German and probably
still is
then she said I looked like
so-and-so (who was famous and probably
still is)
and I was drunk enough to think
she was sincere and to be
sincere when I asked if so-and-so was
a good-looking famous person,
and she said, "yes"
and I said, "you are beautiful, too, but,
don't take that as a compliment"
she never does
and she said some other things that
were more beautiful than she
and would probably make this poem look
like a dead jellyfish on a meathook
and I knew it was time
to make my move
so I said,
"I've got to go get a beer.
Save my seat."
but I really had to go
to the restroom and out to my car
for the beer
and when I got back
he was there,
in my seat.
he is a poorly-drawn caricature
of evil
his mother was from Hades and his
father is of the wet, slimy
sea
and he didn't look like anyone
who could ever be famous but
the word notorious came to mind
and at that point I lost hope
for the beautiful Mexican woman
but still wanted to carry on
our drunken
conversation,
so I asked
for my seat back
but I was asking
the Gollum
for his ring
and he pretended to give
it to me but
they went on decomposing
and I went on home.
|
